


The King of Canada

by Gigi_Sinclair



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-17 00:05:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11263839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gigi_Sinclair/pseuds/Gigi_Sinclair
Summary: Celebrating Canada's 150th birthday, J.J.-style!ETA: Today is the day! Happy 150th to my fellow Canadians and J.J. fans!





	The King of Canada

**Author's Note:**

> The next couple of weeks include a lot of important Canadian celebrations. Aboriginal Day, St-Jean-Baptiste, and, of course, the 150th anniversary of confederation, on the first of July. This is a big deal, and I'm super excited to be able to celebrate it in a fandom with a great, non-stereotypical Canadian character. I'll repost on the actual day, but I wanted to put this out a little early, as I'm sure the people to whom it will mean the most will be increasingly busy with other things. 
> 
> Conforms to the fan theory that the canon season was 2014-15, when the GPF was really in Barcelona, meaning that at this point, J.J. is almost twenty-two and Yuri is eighteen.

Jean-Jacques Leroy was born in a coat room in Rideau Hall. 

His parents were there to receive the Order of Canada from the Governor General, in honour of their many accomplishments on the international figure skating scene. As J.J.'s mother always tells it, “I had a few little pains before we arrived, but everyone always told me the first child takes hours and hours to come. And we didn't want to miss the ceremony.” 

“We thought we had time,” his father usually adds. Even after all these years, there's a haunted look in his eyes.

As it turned out, they didn't have time. They made it through the awards presentation, but partway through the reception, “The pain got so bad, I told Alain, I have to go sit down. I couldn't find anywhere quiet enough. I tried to go to the washroom, but there was someone there. So I went to the coat room. I sat down, my water broke, and that was it. They called an ambulance, but by the time it got there, you were already born.” The impromptu delivery was attended by a doctor who'd just received the same award, for her humanitarian work with Inuit communities in the Far North. Later, the Governor General himself sent a teddy bear in red serge and a bouquet of white trillium flowers and maple leaves to Nathalie Leroy's hospital room. 

Given that start, it's only natural J.J. grew up to be one of the proudest Canadians in the country. And being such a proud Canadian, he is, of course, not about to let the country's milestone 150th birthday pass without throwing a party worthy of the occasion. He starts his preparations at the end of his figure skating season, which, thanks to a pulled groin just before Worlds, is in March. When the first of July finally rolls around, J.J. is excited, he's ready, and he can't wait to celebrate the best country in the world. 

The venue, of course, is J.J.'s acreage outside of Ottawa. A year earlier, he'd decided that as much as he loved his parents, and as much as he appreciated them as coaches, he couldn't live with them anymore. He and Isabella always planned to move out of the city as soon as they could, and even though that relationship fizzled out, J.J. still longed for his own land, with a big house that had a pool for the summer and a backyard rink for the winter and a little recording studio in the basement. A place in the country near Limoges, Ontario—relatively close to his parents' in the suburb of Orléans—proved to be nearly what he was looking for, and, with a little renovation, J.J.'s made it into his dream house. 

He's lucky, he knows that. Not many nearly-twenty-two-year-olds own their own homes; still fewer have incredible places like this. He's always loved sharing his good fortune with the world, and today, “the world” means the one hundred and twenty six guests invited to his Canada Day party.

These include his bandmates, along with their girlfriends, families and friends. A few of Isabella's friends come, too, although she herself is staying in Montreal with her new boyfriend, a fellow med student at McGill. J.J.'s met him. He's not a douche. That's all J.J. can say for him. 

J.J.'s parents are at the party, of course. J.J. is still very close to them, despite moving out. That's something else that not many people his age can boast. They come with J.J.'s younger brother, Mathieu-Éric, who brings his girlfriend Julie, an ice dancer who in turn brings along her skating partner Travis, Travis' boyfriend Amir, and Amir's sister Dilpreet. By three in the afternoon, the house is packed and the party is hopping. J.J. grins so hard his face hurts, bouncing from group to group, making sure everyone's having the time of their lives. They are. This is J.J.'s party, after all. 

He invited everyone he knows from the figure skating world, but he doesn't expect them to turn up. It's the middle of the off-season, and most of them have lives on the other side of the world. Katsuki and Nikiforov are relatively nearby, in New York doing some sort of modelling thing for one of Nikiforov's old sponsors. They said they would come up if they had the chance. And then, of course, there's Otabek. 

He and J.J. have drifted apart since Beka went to train in the US and then Kazakhstan, but they still Skype from time to time. Beka promised he would do everything he could to be at the party, and a promise from Beka is something to count on. Sure enough, J.J. looks up, laughing, from his conversation with Travis and Amir to see Otabek standing on the deck. J.J.'s smile only grows when he sees who he's brought with him. 

J.J. knows Beka and Yuri Plisetsky are close friends. Everyone does. J.J. has teased Beka about that closeness on occasion, but Beka insists that friends is all they are, and J.J. believes him. He doesn't remember Beka as anything but straight. Plisetsky's another story. He stands, scowling, beside Otabek, a pair of tiger-striped short-shorts showing off his endless, muscled legs. His hair, recently cut short, is under a gold lamé baseball hat—J.J. can't imagine Yuri in any other colour—and his black T-shirt is artfully ripped. He looks, as always, like a god who exchanged eternal youth for terrible fashion sense. 

When J.J. approaches, Yuri snaps, “It is too fucking hot here,” in his delightfully heavy accent. 

“Feel free to go for a swim.” J.J. points out the big above ground swimming pool, where a few guests are splashing. “I can loan you a bathing suit, if you like.” He ignores Yuri's expression of disgust and pulls Beka into a half-hug. “Glad you could make it, man.” 

Otabek lifts the corner of his mouth, his version of an enthusiastic grin. “Happy Canada Day,” he says. 

“There is anything to eat?” Yuri interrupts. 

“I'm glad you asked, sweetheart,” J.J. replies. He throws an arm around Yuri's shoulders. Yuri tries to shake him off, but J.J. holds fast and steers him over to the caterer's table. 

The theme, naturally, is Canadian cuisine. Along with the obvious choices, like poutine and Nanaimo bars, there are Alberta beef burgers on bannock buns, mussels imported from Prince Edward Island in a Molson's-based sauce, and tarte au sucre. The party's signature cocktail, designed by a mixologist at Ottawa's top bar, is a twist on the traditional Canadian Caesar, with cracked pepper and local Ontario blackberries. 

Yuri loads up his paper maple leaf plate until it's bowing in the middle. J.J. doesn't say anything. It's the off-season; he knows as well as any skater what that means. He helps himself to another California roll—a Canadian invention, he was pleased to find out—and says to Otabek, “How's the road trip going?” Otabek and Yuri had rented a bike, apparently, and are spending a few weeks touring eastern Canada and the US. 

Beka glances at Yuri, who's out of earshot, holding up a glass while the bartender fills it not with the cocktail, but with what looks like straight vodka. “Yura's my best friend,” Beka says, a note of resignation in his voice. “But he's not always the easiest guy to live with.” 

J.J. laughs. “No shit.” Beka is the dictionary definition of stoic. Yuri is...not. J.J. doesn't usually tease people, especially not with the express goal of getting a rise out of them, but Yuri is so rise-gettable, he just can't help himself. He's been doing it since before Yuri made his senior debut. 

The relationship came to a head, so to speak, after last year's Worlds in Boston. J.J. placed fifth. It wasn't the result he was looking for, but it could have been worse. Yuri placed second, behind Yuuri Katsuki in Katsuki's final competitive event. It was a perfectly respectable finish, but to look at Yuri's face, you would have thought the world was ending. 

Katsuki and Yuri are close. J.J. knows what it's like to be competitive, of course. No one wants to come in second. But he would have thought Yuri could have been gracious enough to let his friend go out with a Worlds gold and an extravagant public marriage proposal from Nikiforov, even though that was a little weird and J.J. had been under the impression they were engaged already. Apparently, Yuri doesn't even possess that modicum of sportsmanship. J.J. found him later, doing his best to slam every locker in the men's changing room off its hinges. 

“Hey.” J.J. said. “It's okay, man.” 

“Fuck you,” Yuri spat. 

“Sure.” 

That shut him up, at least. And, the more J.J. thought about it, the more sense it made. He and Isabella had broken up six months earlier. A little part of J.J. still hoped she'd come back, but that seemed less likely with every passing Instagram post of her fabulous new life in Montreal. 

J.J. had slept with two people since her, a woman and a man, both strangers who meant nothing. Yuri was beautiful, which J.J. had always appreciated, and crazy, which J.J. didn't mind. So why not? 

“I'm in room 8134. Give me an hour.” J.J. winked and strode away, leaving Yuri gaping behind him. 

He had no idea whether Yuri would actually show up. Sure, J.J. was the King and pretty damn irresistible, but this was Yuri they were talking about. J.J. was thrilled and surprised in equal measures when, an hour and seventeen minutes later, there was a knock on his door. 

J.J. was calculatedly shirtless, a towel around his waist. Yuri sneered as his gaze roamed J.J.'s sculpted chest and well-defined abs, but the gaze kept roaming. 

“You coming, babe?” J.J. asked, voice heavy with suggestion, when Yuri didn't move. Yuri still hesitated, so J.J. turned around, casually showing off the rest of his wares: broad shoulders, trim waist, delectable ass. It was probably that which finally pushed Yuri over the edge. The hotel room door slammed, and Yuri was on him like a sexy, feral animal. 

It was good—awesome even—but it only happened the once. J.J. can't say he's surprised. It's not like the two of them meet up very often, and they don't have the same kind of Skype and text relationship J.J. has with Otabek, or Otabek has with Yuri. It's a shame, but that's life. J.J. looks over at the DJ booth beneath the pergola on the other side of the yard, drawing Otabek's attention to the woman at the turntables. 

“Taniesha Awolowo. I brought her in from Toronto. She's fantastic. One of the best in the country.” J.J. nudges Otabek. “You should go talk to her.” Because he knows Beka, he gives him a little shove in her direction, then watches like a proud parent as Beka walks to the DJ booth. Taniesha, who is an awesome person as well as a phenomenal DJ, smiles and sticks out her hand. Beka shakes it, and J.J. knows his job is done. 

The day passes so quickly, J.J. doesn't realize how late it is until the sun goes down and the caterers bring out the big Canada flag cake. The fireworks will be starting soon. J.J. ducks into the house, to get changed into the third and final of his self-designed Canada Day party ensembles. As he passes through the walkout basement, he runs into Yuri, standing by himself in the trophy room. 

It's well named. All of J.J.'s skating medals, dating back to his pre-novice days, hang in carefully designed cases. His band's Juno award (“Best New Artist 2011”) is on a shelf beside them, along with the Gemini they won for Best Original Music Score for Documentary Program or Series (“Iceman: A Century of Male Figure Skating in Canada.”) Rather than any of these, though, Yuri is examining a framed picture of J.J. on Parliament Hill with Prime Minister Justin Trudeau. 

It was a terrific meeting. A little short, but J.J. showed Justin a picture of Nathalie and Alain meeting Justin's father, Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau, before J.J. was born. Justin was thrilled to see it, and he promised to be in touch with J.J. about setting up some sort of committee to help retired Olympic athletes find work after their competitive careers are over. It's a pet project of J.J.'s. He hasn't heard anything yet, but the Prime Minister's a busy man. 

“Trudeau's a great guy,” J.J. says, as he comes up behind Yuri. Yuri doesn't turn around. “Knows a lot more about figure skating than you'd expect.” 

“I meet...meeted? Putin. Last year.” 

“How was he?” 

Yuri shrugs. “Yakov says he kill me if I swear. So I not have nothing to say.” J.J. laughs, although Yuri remains stone-faced. “You are not at Worlds this year.” He sounds accusatory. 

“Yeah, I know. Pulled my groin two days before I was supposed to go. Hell of a disappointment.” But that's how it goes in sport. J.J.'s been doing it long enough to know, although knowing doesn't make it any easier. 

“The guy they send instead, he is no good.” 

“He's young.” Christopher Wu is only sixteen. He came round to J.J.'s for a pep talk before he left for Helsinki. Nerves flowed off him in waves even then. J.J. felt for the kid. He invited him to this party, but Chris said he was going up to the Hill with some friends. “Anyway, he qualified for the free skate. Plenty of people don't do that, especially their first time out.”

Yuri rolls his eyes. “If that is what is coming up next, better hope you stay around a long time.” 

It's the nearest thing to a compliment Yuri's ever paid him, even when they were in bed together. J.J. claps him on the shoulder. “I plan on it, babe.” 

Yuri pulls away, groaning, but it seems more theatrical than real. 

“You did good, though,” J.J. goes on. “At Worlds, I mean.” It's a tease, he knows that. Yuri got silver, behind Minami Kenjiro. A great finish that no doubt drove him even crazier than usual. “Nothing wrong with second place,” J.J. adds, to rub it in. 

His reward is a scowl on Yuri's pretty face and a murderous glare in his eyes. “You should know about that,” he teases back, thrilling J.J. Before J.J. can return fire, Yuri goes on: “Yakov has a heart attack. Two months ago. He will not come back next season.” 

It seems like a non sequitur, but to J.J., it makes perfect sense. “So you'll be going to Victor?” That'll shake things up a little. Victor's coaching style is nothing like old Yakov's, but Yuri is a mature athlete for his age. For any age. It'll be interesting to see how this plays out with regards to his performance at competitions. 

“No,” Yuri says, and J.J. blinks in surprise. “Victor is too busy with Kenjiro.” 

“So, who?” 

Yuri looks at him. “Marie-Hélène Arseneault.” 

J.J. knows her, vaguely. She's tough, but she gets results. She's coached the last three Canadian women's champions, as well as several very successful pairs. “She's in Montreal.” 

“Yes.”

“You're moving?” J.J. can't picture it. Yuri is Russia, in his mind, just as he himself is Canada. J.J. can't imagine him anywhere else.

Yuri shrugs. “I do what I have to do.” 

“I'll give you a hand, of course. With whatever you need. Paperwork, moving stuff, whatever. Isabella's in Montreal. She might have a lead on apartments...” 

“I don't need help.” 

“Moving to another country's tough.” J.J.'s never done it himself, but he's trained with a lot of skaters, Otabek included, who have travelled far from home to further their careers. “I'll do whatever I can.” He looks at Yuri. His shorts have ridden up even further, exposing a length of pale thigh. J.J.'s fingers itch to run up it. Instead, he says, “The mosquitoes are brutal out there. I've designed some awesome track pants, I'm sure I have a pair in your size...” 

Yuri's gone before he finishes the sentence. 

***

The fireworks were the only element of the party that made J.J. hesitate when it came to the cost. They were a fortune, but the moment the first one bursts across the sky, he knows it was worth it. J.J.'s heart swells with pride, both patriotic and personal, as even the most jaded of his guests--read, Yuri-- gasps in wonder as colourful fireworks bloom and spin and scream, over and over again, for an incredible fifteen minutes. Yuri holds up his phone to film the extravagant, rat-a-tat finale. That, J.J. takes as a real win. 

By around two o'clock in the morning, the party is winding down. J.J.'s parents and the other older guests are long gone, and the rest start to trickle out slowly. J.J. says good-bye to them all personally, basking in their thanks and their congratulations for a great party. 

When J.J. gets back after bidding good night to a large group that included his brother, Julie, Travis, Amir and Dilpreet, he finds Yuri sitting on the deck, absorbed in his phone. J.J. collapses in the empty Muskoka chair beside him, unzipping his sweatshirt as he goes. 

“Here.” He holds out the sweatshirt to Yuri. It's one of his newest designs. Lines of tastefully small, embroidered golden lions decorate each sleeve, and a red satin maple leaf covers the back. Originally called “The King of Canada”, the collection was renamed “Maple Leaf Forever” after Buckingham Palace took issue. 

Yuri looks critically at the sweatshirt, then pulls it on. _Probably the lions that did it_ , J.J. thinks. 

“How'd you like the party?” 

Yuri shrugs. 

“My house is pretty awesome. I'm lucky to have it.” 

Yuri glances over his shoulder. J.J. follows his gaze, to where Taniesha and Otabek are standing close together, huddled over a laptop. 

“Looks like your ride is busy.” 

Yuri doesn't say anything. He looks down at his phone, back over at Otabek, then up at J.J. “So, what, you want to fool around or whatever?” Yuri's voice is brazen, tough, but there's a blush on his cheeks that's obvious even in the dim light of the tiki torches. It's the most adorable thing J.J.'s ever seen. 

“You bet, princess!” J.J. inches his chair closer, only to have Yuri gape at him, stricken. 

“Not here, for fuck's sake!” He hisses, lowering his voice even though there are only a handful of guests remaining, and they're concentrated around the bones of the catering table. “Your ugly monster house have a bedroom?” 

“Six, in fact. We can do a tour, if you like.” Yuri snorts. “Hey, listen, Yuri.” If they're going to do this again—before they do this again—J.J. needs to make one thing perfectly clear. “I meant what I said before. If you're coming here to train, I'll help you with everything. And I mean everything, so don't worry about a thing, okay?” 

“I know.” Yuri spits the words, but his face is devoid of its usual venomous expression. He glances at his phone once more, then shoves it into the pocket of J.J.'s sweatshirt. J.J. has the sneaking suspicion it may be Yuri's sweatshirt now. “Whatever. Happy Canada Day, loser.” 

“Sweetheart, welcome home,” J.J. replies. He's never been prouder to call it that.

**Author's Note:**

> If you are very picky about ages: there is mention of JJ and Yuri sleeping together in Boston when Yuri was seventeen. According to my research (and I can't wait to see what kind of Google Ads I get now) this is legal in Massachusetts, provided there is no coercion on the part of the older partner.


End file.
